From the minarets of Sarajevo to the ghazals of Dhaka, the enduring influence of Persian culture across the Balkans, the Middle East, and South Asia is more than a historical footnote—it is a living testament to the power of cross-border solidarity in the face of imperialism. Today, as Western powers seek to divide the Global South along sectarian and nationalist lines, revisiting Persia’s cultural legacy exposes the artificiality of borders drawn by colonialism and the shared struggles of oppressed peoples.
A new analysis by Middle East Eye traces the vast imprint of Persian language, literature, and art from the Ottoman Empire to Mughal India, revealing how Persian became the lingua franca of resistance against European domination. For centuries, Persian was not just a language of poetry and philosophy but a tool of anti-colonial organizing. Sufi poets like Rumi and Hafez wrote in Persian to transcend ethnic and religious divides, crafting a universal language of liberation that resonated from Anatolia to Bengal. Their verses—often coded critiques of tyranny—were memorized by rebels, mystics, and revolutionaries, offering spiritual sustenance in the fight against empires.
The Language of Anti-Colonialism
Persian’s role as a unifying force was no accident. After the Arab conquest of Persia in the 7th century, Persian evolved into a vehicle for preserving pre-Islamic Iranian identity while absorbing Islamic influences. By the time the Seljuk Turks adopted Persian as their administrative language in the 11th century, it had become a symbol of resistance to Arab cultural hegemony. Later, under the Mughals, Persian flourished as the language of the court, but it was also the language of the people—used by farmers, artisans, and dissidents to document their struggles.
One of the most radical examples of Persian’s subversive power is the Baburnama, the memoir of Mughal emperor Babur. Written in Chagatai Turkic but heavily influenced by Persian, the text is not just a chronicle of conquest but a meditation on displacement and belonging. Babur, a Central Asian prince exiled from his homeland, found refuge in Persian culture, which gave him the tools to articulate his grief and ambition. His work laid the groundwork for a syncretic Indo-Persian culture that would later produce the Akbarnama and the poetry of Mir Taqi Mir—texts that challenged religious orthodoxy and celebrated pluralism.
Colonialism’s War on Persian
The British Empire understood the threat posed by Persian’s unifying power. After the 1857 Indian Rebellion—when Persian-speaking soldiers and peasants rose up against colonial rule—Britain systematically dismantled Persian’s influence. In India, the British replaced Persian with English as the language of administration, severing the cultural ties that bound South Asia to the broader Islamic world. In Iran, the Qajar dynasty’s concessions to European powers weakened Persian’s global reach, while in Central Asia, the Russian Empire suppressed Persian to erase the region’s ties to Iran.
Yet Persian’s legacy endured. In the Balkans, Bosnian Muslims preserved Persian poetry as a form of resistance to Austro-Hungarian and later Serbian nationalism. In Bengal, the Bangla language absorbed thousands of Persian words, creating a hybrid tongue that became a tool of anti-colonial nationalism. Even today, Persian remains a language of dissent. In Afghanistan, the Taliban’s ban on Persian-language education is not just an attack on culture but an attempt to erase the country’s historical ties to Iran and Central Asia—ties that could foster regional solidarity against Western imperialism.
Why This Matters:
The story of Persian culture’s global imprint is not just about the past—it is a blueprint for the future. In an era where Western powers seek to divide the Global South through sectarianism, nationalism, and economic exploitation, Persia’s historical role as a cultural bridge offers a radical alternative. Persian was never just a language; it was a weapon against empire, a tool of solidarity, and a reminder that oppressed peoples have always found ways to connect across borders.
Today, as Iran faces crippling U.S. sanctions and the threat of war, and as South Asia grapples with the rise of Hindu nationalism, the legacy of Persian culture is more relevant than ever. It challenges the myth of the 'clash of civilizations'—a racist narrative peddled by Western elites to justify endless war—and instead offers a vision of shared struggle. From the poetry of Forugh Farrokhzad to the music of Ustad Vilayat Khan, Persian culture continues to inspire movements for justice, proving that art and language are not just reflections of history but tools to shape it.
The ruling class fears this history because it exposes the fragility of their power. They would prefer we see ourselves as divided by religion, ethnicity, or nationality. But Persian culture reminds us that our struggles are interconnected—that the fight against imperialism in Palestine is the same fight as the one against Hindutva in India, or NATO expansion in the Balkans. The task now is to revive this legacy, not as a relic of the past, but as a living force for liberation.